


M7-90

by LotharWinchester



Series: 100 Fanfiction Collection [17]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of Fallout 3, Not Beta Read, Synths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LotharWinchester/pseuds/LotharWinchester
Summary: Danse has a very deep sense of Deja vu around Mason.
Relationships: Mason/Paladin Danse
Series: 100 Fanfiction Collection [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150304





	M7-90

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: i don't own anything from fallout, bethesda does. 
> 
> I ship Mason with almost everyone, i'm in shipper hell. I am also still the king of angst apparently. this idea came to me a while ago but i finally finished it, and, like (preston/mason) as a ship, i'm unsure how people will respond to this one. but i'll go down with this one to.

Danse had a case of deja vu every once in a while. Not just from his life in the Brotherhood or his time in Rivet City. 

It was rare for a wastelanders to match his height and build but Mason did. Almost pound for pound. 

The first time they met, it wasn't the first thing he'd noticed about the former raider boss. It was the simmering rage in his emerald eyes. 

The Sole Survivor had brought all of the settlement heads to a meeting in Sanctuary and told them everything she knew about Nuka World in the months she'd been gone. She told them of each raider boss, how the park ran, and what their plans were post power. 

They had, albeit uneasily, gone along with her plan to take down the raiders. She had been more than an open book with her relationship with Mason and how he had saved her more than once. 

The Alpha stood among them, caged by uncertainty and rage, for almost five months before he adjusted to his new way of life. 

The entire time, Danse was his babysitter. 

He was the only one who could restrain the former raider. He could also understand where the man was coming from. The same way he had felt for almost a year after he'd been forced to leave the Brotherhood. 

Everything was compounded by a strong, undeniable sense that he'd already met Mason before. He tried to recall anything from his time at the Institute, tossed over memories of his time on the Capitol, and even gone to the Memory Den to try and ease his mind. Nothing helped. 

During his doubts, Mason cohabitated the Red Rocket truck stop with him. It was a tense time, at first, since he was unsure if he’d wake up in the morning and find Mason gone. Eventually, settled into a routine where they both built and maintained the defense repairs that would be sent to other settlements. Danse had learned the ginger's habits and quirks that helped ease them into a strong friendship. He admitted (only to himself) that he had started to linger longer when Mason wiped his brow with the hem of his dirty tank. Or when Mason lifted fully assembled turrets onto the loading carts by himself. He had to force himself to look away more than he would like to admit. 

It was the trip to the Memory Den that rekindled his deja vu. 

  
  


_ "They're going to find us." _ He had recognized his own voice. A courser's firm tone barely whispered between kisses. _ "90.." _

_ "The escaped synths are finding a way to avoid us on the surface." _ Chapped lips pressed against Danse' neck.  _ "What if -" _

_ "The SRB will keep sending more like us, X7. We will always be on the run." _ The regret that washed through his tone at the pain in the eyes of the synth before him.  _ " Zimmer won't stop _ ."

_ "He'll never-." _

_ “I knew it!”  _ Danse turned to shove Mason out of Zimmer’s path, to no avail.

_ “ X7-90, reset code...” _

It had been Mason's voice. Danse had played it over and over in his head after his time in the lounger. If Mason was a synth, he had no idea. Just like Danse. 

By the time he’d gotten back to the Red Rocket, Mason had just finished setting up the defenses for the night. 

“Rough trip?” Mason grunted as he reset the gate turrets and closed the door behind Danse. The former soldier was thankful that his power armor kept the former raider from seeing the flush on his face. It was a relief to hear the gruff tone after such a long trip. 

Danse nodded instead, he couldn’t trust his voice now that he’d taken off his power armor helm. He swiped away the sweat with a rag Mason handed to him. 

“I just finished cooking, you want some?” Mason’s Boston accent rumbled over Danse and he grunted, still not trusting his voice. 

They both sat in relative silence as Mirelurk soup was nearly inhaled by Mason. Danse, as a force of habit from the Brotherhood, ate quickly and silently. As he glanced around, Danse realized that Mason had been very busy over the course of the week he’d been gone. 

New window panes replaced the open sills of the gas station. No longer would they have to keep radaway and rad x in every room, only in the garage during a rad storm. Next, he noticed the increased light from oil lamps and electricity. The generator out back that had been making constant noise lay silent. The defense had been upgraded again, now controlled by two terminals: one in the garage and one in the shared bedroom. 

"Had a lot on my mind." Mason grunted as he placed his bowl down. His eyes lingered on Danse's hands long enough for him to be caught. "Some shit that only you might know the answers to."

There was no malice in Mason's tone. Danse had known him long enough to know the difference between the ginger's words and tone. Whatever he had to ask wasn't something he took lightly. 

Danse swallowed and put his empty bowl on top of Mason's. He stalled for time by pulling Mason's spoon from underneath his bowl. 

"Since I've been here, my memory before the Pack has started to come back." Mason grunted and shifted closer towards the cooking pit he'd set up. "I've had my suspicions but I need ta know." 

Danse tried look up from his hands, his breath caught in his throat.  _ Please don't.. _

"Were we mates?" Mason asked as he slowly gathered his fire smothering materials. 

Emerald eyes searched Danse's expression. The man was tense and refused to look at him. "Is that why you go to the memory den?" 

Mason's calloused hands, as gently as he could muster, glided across the expanse of Danse's back and over his left arm. He let Danse take another moment before he let his right hand take Danse's left and grasp it for reassurance. 

"Yes." Danse cleared his throat and returned Mason's grip. His right hand covered Mason's in a soft gesture. " But that's not the only reason." He shakily exhaled and let go of Mason. "I felt the same way when I first saw you. It sparked memories that had been hidden from one of my earlier resets." 

Mason's eyes widened as he out two and two together faster than Danse could get out. Confusion flooded his face as he quickly stood and stepped away. "I'm a synth?!" 

Danse felt himself holding back tears. "I'm sorry..."

Mason shook his head and glanced around at his busy work. His strength, his lack of memories before his life as a raider, and with the Pack. This was the more logical of the reasons he'd come up with over the years. 

"I…" 

"Your Institute designation was X7-90, from my memory.." Danse stood as Mason continued to disassociate, "You were a courser, like I was."

Mason firmly held Danse to him as the other synth wrapped his arms around him. 

'I'm here." Danse asserted, "I'm here for you."

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
